


Just Another Goodbye

by LondonGypsy



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Goodbyes, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying good-bye's always hard...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> As always: All the love and respect to my lovely Beta, SuperWhoLockGypsy for being so patient and wonderful as she always is!!  
> Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Steve stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. He bumps against the counter, curses, and blinks his eyes open a little more. 

“Coffeeeeee,” he mumbles like a starving man, following the intoxicating smell of said brew. 

He grins as he sees the empty mug next to the machine, the dark liquid just waiting for him. 

He pours himself a cup and sighs happily as the first rush of caffeine runs through his tired body. 

“Heaven,” he murmurs into the mug, taking another long sip.

He snags a piece of the bacon that sits next to the coffee and wanders towards the doors leading to the deck. He pushes them open and shuffles outside, taking a deep breath of the already-warmed up winter air. 

He loves the winter in California; it’s always warmer than anywhere else and even though it rains more than usual, the temperature never drops below 50 degrees. 

Today the sun is shining, its warm beams embracing him and he smiles contently as he sits on one of the chairs, just watching the waves of the ocean roll against the shore. 

He gets lost in his thoughts so he doesn't hear the opening of the front door; the “Morning, sleepyhead” startles him and he spills some coffee over his hand. 

“Dude, you can't sneak up on people like that,” he grumbles as he sets the mug on the table in front of him. 

The deep, raspy laugh that answers his complaint gets the small hair on his arms to stand up, and he feels a well-known shudder running down his spine. 

“Why are you up this fucking early, anyway?” he asks, turning his head towards the deck doors, peaking inside. 

Christian smiles at him and lifts the bags he's carrying. He sets them on the counter, pours himself a coffee before he comes outside and sits next to Steve. 

“Barbeque, remember? I just went to the store to get all we need for tonight. You know how much I hate not getting all the fresh shit I need.” 

Steve grins and nods; yeah, the other man can get really pissed if he doesn’t get his cumin or garlic. 

“Man, you're worse than me,” he snickers and yelps when Christian slaps his arm. 

“Shut up, it’s your fault anyway. You made me wanna use fresh stuff. I was pretty happy with the dried stuff before,” Christian replies, leaning back on his chair and sipping on his own coffee. 

“Yeah, right, just blame me,” Steve says, grinning widely even though he can hear the sad undertone in his own voice. 

He's going to miss their banter, the mocking and teasing whenever they feel like that. 

Sure, he's going to be busy as well and they'll be calling each other, but it's just not the same.

“I'll miss you.” 

Steve gasps softly as Christian voices his own thoughts. He looks over to the other man but he is staring at the horizon, sporting his ' _Eliot_ ' face and for once Steve can't read him at all. 

He wants to say something but his throat closes up; he hems, tries to get the words out but he can't. He's watching Christian but the other man keeps a straight face, continuing to gaze into the blue. 

“You know, it’s weird,” Christian's rough voice interrupts the silence, “I used to hate being in Cali: too loud, to hectic, too hot... and now that I have to go back... I don’t want to go.” 

He scowls and he runs his hand through his hair, a clear sign that he's nervous. 

“Chris...” Steve says gently; he wants to reach out for the other man but he shakes his head and jumps to his feet, a fake smile on his face. 

Steve frowns; he hates that smile but Christian seems determined. 

“So, let’s get that barbeque underway, shall we? I'd bet Riley is going to be here way too early just to bust our stones.” 

Steve bites back a frustrated groan but he nods and stands as well. It’s going to be a long day. 

*

The sun is setting when the doorbell rings the first time. Steve throws a glance at the clock in the kitchen and rolls his eyes. 

“Geez, we should set all his watches an hour later,” Christian growls as he puts the last marinated steaks back in the fridge. 

“Well, at least we're ready so he can't snoop around and ruin my pasta,” Steve chuckles and turns off the stove. 

Christian just grumbles and goes to open the door. 

Steve rummages through the kitchen, quickly cleans up and as Riley busts into the room, he hands him a cold beer and grins at the disappointed face. 

“What is it, Smith? You're too late, dude.” 

Steve gets himself a beer and leans against the counter, feeling pretty content that they outdid their friend's wicked ideas. 

There are far too many stories from other friends where Riley arrived way before the arranged time – always on purpose – just to stir the hell out of everybody who wasn’t prepared for their guests by that point. 

“You two aren’t any fun,” Riley pouts, but the doorbell saves him from more punishment. 

“What is this? A conspiracy?” Christian groans as he goes to get the door. 

Steve laughs as Riley hops on the counter, watching him putting everything they need on a tray to carry it outside. 

Jason's contagious laugh greets him when he comes back inside. 

“Hey man, you're early,” he says as the other man pulls him in a hug. 

“Blame Mister ‘We Have To Be Early Or We Won’t Get Any Food’ here – he dragged me along to drive and was out of the car as soon as I was slow enough. I was afraid he would actually jump out of the moving car. Weirdo...” 

Jason pokes Riley in the ribs and gets rewarded with a slap against the back of his head. 

Steve watches them, smiling, and his gaze drifts to Christian, who's leaning against the door frame, shaking his head at their friends. 

Their eyes meet. And time stands still. 

Only for a second but it feels like an eternity. 

Steve knows Christian's face like nobody else, and it still amazes him. He can watch him all day and still find something new in there: a look he hasn’t seen before or some new line or wrinkle he hadn't noticed. Most of all, he's always struck by the expressiveness of his eyes. 

Those blue eyes that can change from soft and gentle to ice cold in a heartbeat, scaring the crap out of people who don’t know him. 

But right now, they're watching him closely, a little narrowed, and the blue is so bright they almost seem transparent, letting Steve see right into his inner soul. 

Amazed at all the little things Steve can read in them now, he almost forgets to breathe and only the dizziness that overcomes him reminds him. He takes a deep breath and breaks the contact; he can't have that, not now, not with the house full of guests. 

“Uhm, Jay, would you help me?” he asks, throwing one last look at Christian, who is still standing at the other side of the room, not moving a muscle; only his eyes are following every move Steve makes. 

“Sure thing, Stevo,” Jason says, “what do you want me to do?” 

Steve forces himself to take a step towards the counter and hands the other man a few plates. 

“Get them outside, please,” he nods towards the grill on the deck, ready to get fired up. 

He calls Riley as well, hands him more plates and grabs a few himself. 

The doorbell rings again and with an inscrutable smile in Steve's direction Christian goes to let more of their friends in. 

*

The sky has taken the dark blue shade it always has in winter nights as laughter and chatting echoes over the deck.

Their guests are scattered all over the place, plates with food in front of them, the drinks are flowing and everybody seems to be having a good time. 

Christian is flipping steaks while Steve is making sure everybody has enough to eat, and their friends just enjoy their little gathering. 

“When does filming start again?” Jensen asks between two bites and Christian flinches at the words. 

“Dunno yet, they'll call. Soon, I guess,” he says, shoulders hunched as he avoids looking at him. 

“I hate that, when they can't let you know when you have to leave,” Jensen complains, his eyes gliding over Danneel right next to him, smiling softly at her. 

“I know,” Christian mumbles and pokes the meat with the fork to check if it's done. 

“Glad it’s not us this time, eh?” 

Steve catches Jensen grinning at Jared, who chokes on his third steak and looks up.

“Huh?” 

Jensen rolls his eyes as Danneel and Genevieve laugh. 

“That we _know_ that we have be back in two days so we can properly say goodbye to everybody,” Jensen explains slowly, ducking his head as Jared waves his fork at him. 

He grins his dimpled, bright smile and nods.

“Yeah, that’s true. Hate it to leave my lovely wife behind,” he says, the smile turning softer as he looks at Genevieve. 

Riley leans back, patting his belly. 

“Glad I'm solo,” he blurts out and Jason throws the cap of his beer at him. 

“You're an ass, Smith,” he states dryly. 

“Why? Because I don’t have to leave somebody behind when filming? Nah, thanks, I don’t need that,” he shoots back. 

“Might be, but then what? Coming back to an empty house isn’t fun either. I'd rather have my wife waiting for me,” Jason counters gently, his face turning soft; his wife is in England, visiting their family. 

Jensen reaches out for Danneel's hand, squeezing it gently and she smiles happily back at him. 

Steve's heart stings for a second as he see the loving gesture and his eyes find Christian's again, seeking shelter in his presence. 

Everything fades – the chatter filling the warm air, the crowded deck – it’s just Christian and him, eyes locked over all their friends, wordlessly talking to one another. 

He gets lost in the dark gaze, nothing matters anymore, only the man who's seen his best and his worst. The man who lives with him when he's here, sharing a place they both call home. 

“Alright, enough with the sappy shit.” 

Riley's loud voice tears Steve out of the haze he's in and he glares over at him. 

“Shut up, Smith,” he grunts and focuses in his own food again. But suddenly the steak tastes like paper and he puts his plate down. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Christian frowning and he smiles reassuringly at him. 

“C'mon, it’s the J's last night home, let’s have some fun,” Riley says, “music, we need music. Jay, Chris, Stevo...” 

He drums a quick solo on his table, almost bouncing on his seat. 

“Dude, you're worse than a child,” Danneel says and everybody laughs. 

“Steve?” 

Christian's voice is low and there's a strange undertone in it but Steve knows what he wants. 

He gets up and walks inside to get the guitars from their stands. When he wanders back outside the scenery takes his breath away. 

The grill is smoldering quietly in one corner, the low flames casting long shadows over the deck. The candles the girls insisted on putting up are flickering in the gentle breeze and the air smells of roasted meat and salt from the ocean. Their friends are seated together in one corner, curled around their partners, sipping on their drinks and talking softly. 

The entire atmosphere has changed, the teasing and the mocking has stopped, a bit of farewell and sadness lingers in the air. 

Steve hands Christian his guitar and sits opposite of him, next to Jared who offers him a drink. 

He takes the glass, the flames making the golden liquid in it sparkle. He sips on it and puts it aside before he gets comfortable. 

He tunes the guitar, hearing faintly that Christian's doing the same. 

“Whatcha wanna hear?”

Steve lets his gaze glide over his friends, tilting his head. 

A choir of voices throws suggestions at him and he grins; it’s always the same, they love each other but their taste in music couldn’t be more different. 

“Guys, please,” he hold up his hands, “one at a time...” 

Surprisingly quickly they agree in the first song and Steve throws a quick look to Christian before they start playing. 

They go through all of their friends’ suggestions, play every tune they can think of; Steve leads and Christian follows him, easily and playful like always. 

They mix slow song with fast ones, funny and thoughtful songs, use their combined knowledge and put all they have in the play. 

But the later it gets the gentler the music becomes; it gets quiet, silence stretches longer between songs because nobody wants to disturb the magic that has fallen over the little group. 

Suddenly Steve's fingers get a life of their own; he's strumming aimlessly over the strings and once he realizes what he’s playing he can't stop. 

Usually he doesn't do it but tonight he can't help himself. He feels lightheaded and as the words tumble from his lips, his gaze searches for the other pair of blue eyes, so similar to his own and still so different. 

“ _So many places we could go_  
 _Take the train down to Mexico_  
 _Lay around and watch a show_  
 _But you and I both know_

_That at the end of the day_  
 _Or even when the day is new_  
 _There’s always one thing_  
 _I can count on with you_ _..._ ” 

All he feels, all the memories they share flow into the song; he only has eyes for Christian, who seems to know that this one is only for him, letting him know, telling him, that this is what he treasures the most. 

He trails off, his voice fades until silence falls; it’s so quiet they can hear the wood in the grill crackle and the candle wax hiss as it burns. 

“That was … wow...” 

Genevieve’s voice is wavering and Steve blinks the wetness behind his lids away. But his entire focus is on Christian, watching him with wide eyes, a tiny smile dancing over his lips, soft and somewhat sad. 

He hems and lowers his gaze, leaving Steve trembling, and he swallows hard. 

He doesn't trust his voice anymore and so he just plucks away, eyes closed, concentrating on his hands, the strings against his skin, pressing hard into his fingers. 

Nobody says a word, somebody sighs and as he peaks through his half closed lids he sees his friends, leaning against their respective other, fingers entwined, searching the closeness of their loved ones. 

Of course it’s Riley who has to stand up and announce that he’s going home now. 

Though, his voice is rougher than normal and Steve catches a quick smirk from Jason before he gets up. 

His movement seems to wake up the rest of them. Slowly they scramble to their feet, their motions are dreamlike and the goodbyes are toned down; a little of the magic of this night seems to still linger over them all. 

Steve walks them to the door, hugs the guys and kisses the girls good night. 

“Get home well. And safe travels to you two,” he nods at Jared and Jensen. 

“Thanks, man,” Jared says, “it was a great evening. Best way to spend the last day home.” 

He pulls his tiny wife against his side as they leave, waving back at him. 

Steve watches them walk down the driveway before he turns and closes the door. 

Back in the kitchen he takes a deep breath, calming himself. He grabs the bottle of _Jack Daniels_ and shuffles back outside. 

Christian is collecting the plates and he looks up as he hears Steve's step. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the plates on a table. 

“Hey,” Steve croaks; his throat feels dry and he lifts the bottle. 

“Have a drink with me?” 

Christian nods and falls on a bench, holding up his empty glass. 

Wordlessly Steve fills it, as well as his own, before he sits next to the other man. 

They sip on their drinks, neither of them feeling the need to talk. 

The soft breeze from the ocean has cooled down a bit but it's still warm and feels like a soft touch when it blows over Steve's face. 

The moon enlightens the now black sky, a few stars blink between the gray clouds sailing over the width darkness. 

“It's beautiful here,” Christian murmurs and Steve agrees; he doesn't want this night to end. He just wants to stay sitting here, with Christian, not saying a word, just relishing each other's presence. 

His hand falls on the seat between them and then there are warm, strong fingers, hesitantly tangling with his own. 

A slight shiver runs through Steve's limbs as he closes his hand around them, once again amazed at what that little touch does to him. 

Their fingers are playing with each other, stroking gently, causing little trembles and soft sighs. 

“When does your flight leave?” 

Steve breaks the silence with the hushed question, as Christian barely catches it. 

“7 am,” he says, setting his glass on the floor to grab his guitar, leaning against the bench. 

With a last stroke over Steve's hand he lets go and starts plucking on the instrument, filling the night with soft music. 

Steve pulls up his knees and lays his head in them, watching Christian play. His gaze wanders over the other man, memorizes the line of his neck and back and gets lost in the view of his hands, strumming carefully over the strings. 

Slowly a melody forms and as Steve realizes what Christian starts playing his head jerks up and his eyes widen in surprise. 

Christian notices his sudden movement and looks over. Steve swallows hard at the begging look on his face.

“Please?” 

His eyes are pleading; the word comes out as a hushed whisper but Steve knows exactly what he wants. 

He leans back and for a split second he has trouble remembering the words, but then they come, rough and hesitant at first, but eventually they flow like water, easy and low. 

“... _Not showing you is tough_  
 _Cause what I know of you is enough to make me say_  
 _I think of you more times than I can count each day_  
 _So please stay_  
 _Cause it rains up there and it’s not where I belong_  
 _Don’t move on_

_Cause I want to stay up late_  
 _And celebrate the dawn with you_  
 _And I wanna chance to make_  
 _Every dream you’ve had come true..._ ” 

His words get more and more quiet until they fade into the night. Christian's hands stop playing as his eyes lock with Steve's and again, everything around them isn't important anymore. 

It's instinct that causes Steve to reach out and take the guitar out of Christian's lap and put it down carefully. He shifts closer and Christian's arms are around him, pulling him close against his chest. 

When their lips find each other, it’s like coming home. Christian's mouth is warm and gentle, his lips soft on Steve's own and he sighs deeply. 

He wanted to kiss him all day long, but he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to let him go. But now, with the house empty and the night embracing them with its darkness, he can finally give in. 

Steve presses closer against the other man, his hand finds its way in Christian's hair, tangling in the dark curls like it always does. 

Christian makes that little noise deep in his throat that has Steve's breath hitch and he moans lowly into his mouth. 

His tongue flicks against the seam of Christian's mouth and with a deep groan the other one's tongue slides against his. 

Steve's fingers tighten in Christian's hair; he wants to crawl into his heat, wants to forget anything around them and just keep kissing the man who owns his heart. 

“God, I'll miss you so fucking much,” Christian murmurs as he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Steve's. 

“Tell me about it.” 

Steve has his eyes closed, his fingers running gently through Christian's hair and he inhales his unique scent deeply. Christian's hands slide over his side, his back and as he slowly lifts the hem of Steve's shirt he moans deeply.

Wordlessly he lifts his arms and lets Christian's take off his shirt; he shivers a bit as the cool air blows over his heated skin. 

Christian leans back and watches him, his eyes wandering slowly over Steve's upper body. Steve reaches out and tugs gently on Christian's own shirt. He smiles and pulls it off before he pulls Steve roughly against him to claim his mouth in another deep kiss. 

Steve feels the blood rush through his veins, his heart beats too fast and he can barely breathe but at the same time he wants more, he needs more. 

He breaks the kiss, panting a bit and stands up, his knees a little wobbly. Christian frowns at him and Steve holds out a hand. 

“Let's go inside,” he mumbles as Christian gets up as well and wraps his arms around him. 

He shakes his head and drags Steve over to the few huge cushions they threw on the floor earlier. 

He sinks onto them and motions Steve to join him. He does it and Christian immediately pulls him into his arms, kissing him longingly. 

Steve groans at the feeling of the other man against his skin, his hands roam aimlessly over Christian's arms, his chest and settle around his hips. 

Christian's hands are just as restless as his, running over his body, leaving Steve trembling and gasping as his fingertips slide over his sensitive nipples. 

“Fuck, I love those little sounds you make,” Christian groans against his neck as he starts kissing down. 

Steve's head falls back as he bites softly, sucks the skin in his mouth, licking over it and his fingers dip a bit deeper into Christian's hips 

“God, Chris... please...inside...bed...” Steve whimpers lowly as Christian's teeth sink into the thin skin around his nipples. 

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” Christian lifts his head as his eyes drill darkly into Steve's own. “As in right now? Like this, with the moonlight on your skin? Fuck no, I ain’t going nowhere. I'm going to take you right here, with the wind in your hair and the ocean in my ears. Because that'll be the only thing that helps me keep going until I see you again...” 

He drowns Steve's protests in a hard kiss and Steve gives up; he sinks into the cushions, Christian's hair brushing over his shoulders and he closes his eyes. 

Christian kisses over his chest, his tongue fluttering over his flesh, causing whimpers and shudders as Steve searches for a hold on Christian's shoulders, needing the anchor he provides. 

Christian's fingers slide under the fabric of his shorts, tugging on the waistband. Steve lifts his hips and helps him to get them gone; Christian's jeans finds its way to the floor just as quickly. 

Steve's entire world consists of Christian: his lips, his hands, his body, trembling with the want he feels himself, stealing his breath and making him press harder against the other one. 

Moans fill the air around them and when Steve hears the distinctive sound of a bottle being opened he can't hold back a low, needy whine. 

Christian's calloused fingers run over the inside of his thighs, sliding faintly over his rock hard dick and he bites back a yelp as he starts circling his oversensitive hole. 

He pushes against Christian's finger; the urge to feel him is overwhelming. 

“Shhh,” Christian's soothes him but his tone is shaky and Steve groans again; Christian's voice has always been the sexiest thing he ever heard: he can make him lose all control only with that voice talking to him in that low, whiskey-rough tone. 

“Chris...fuck... need....”   
“I know...shhh....fuck, I love to drive you crazy...” 

His searching fingers find what they're aiming for and Steve’s hands dig deep into Christian's shoulders. 

He slides up and kisses him again, barely holding back his hunger before he nudges Steve's legs apart to settle between them. Steve lifts his hips and Christian's hand pushes a cushion under his back, supporting him. He hovers over Steve, a warm heavy weight on his stomach and his aching, throbbing cock, rubbing harshly against his belly. 

“Chris...God...stop teasing... I …” 

Christian's dick slips between his ass cheeks, wet and slippery, and Steve cries out as he carefully pushes inside. 

He's propped on his hands, his gaze never leaving Steve's face, watching him with narrowed eyes, drinking in every gasp and every tremble. 

He thrusts into him with slow and languid motions, sinking into Steve, causing all kinds of sensations in his body. 

He keeps the steady pace even though Steve feels the muscles in his arms tremble at the effort to do so. 

“Let go,” he whispers, biting his lip at the feeling of being filled so deeply that he can feel Christian to his inner core. 

Christian is panting as a sweat drop falls from his temple on Steve's lips; he growls as he licks it away; salt and Christian on his tongue are only fueling his needs. 

Christian's movements get a little more uncontrolled, his arms are trembling heavily now and Steve knows only one way to break his stubborn slowness. 

He slings his legs around Christian's waist and bucks his hips up, into every thrust Christian makes. 

A long, raspy curse fills his ears and Christian is eventually losing his control; he rams his dick into Steve, deep and violent, making them both cry out in pleasure. 

“Look at me,” Christian's demands, his voice is hoarse and Steve shudders as he opens his eyes and drowns in the black depth of Christian's gaze. 

“Don’t you dare close your eyes...” Christian's gasps between thrust and Steve obliges. 

His entire being concentrates on Christian now, the feeling of him inside him, his glinting shoulders in the pale moonlight and the shadows it casts on his striking cheekbones. 

Their eyes are locked, not leaving one another, not able to break the contact while Christian pounds into Steve, melting his bones and making him whimper helplessly at every impact. 

He can see as Christian's orgasm hits him before he feels him come inside him; his eyes go unfocused, his mouth falls open and the long moan is almost deathlike in its intensity. 

Steve closes his legs tighter around Christian's waist, pressing harder against him, needing to feel him as deep as possible. 

His own orgasm rolls over him as a surprise; he was concentrating on Christian so much he didn’t feel the build up. It’s violent and bone-crushing in its power. He clings to Christian, eyes still wide open and locked with his, trembling and shaking so hard Christian curls one hand around his hip to steady him. 

He's jerking, feeling his release coating their stomachs with hot burning streaks. 

His breath comes in harsh, short pants, everything is fuzzy; only Christian's face is perfectly clear to him. 

He's still over him, in him, riding out his orgasm before he groans again and collapses on Steve's sweaty chest. 

His head comes to rest on Steve's shoulder, his hair tickling his nose as Steve wraps his arms around his back, caressing his damp skin with shaky hands. 

“I love you,” Steve whispers into his ear, feeling him smile into the crook of his neck and he buries his face in Christian's hair, wanting to keep this moment forever in his mind. 

Slowly their heartbeats calm down, their skin cools and as another breeze blows over them Christian shivers at the coolness. 

With a protesting groan he slides off Steve and gets up. 

“Chris?” Steve mumbles questioning; being the hot-blooded guy he is he enjoys the soft wind. 

“Cold,” Christian's explains, “stay here, be right back.” 

He disappears inside, returning quickly with a wet cloth and a blanket. 

He kneels and cleans Steve gently before he grabs some fresh cushions and crawls back to Steve's side. He throws the blanket over them both and sighs softly. 

Neither of them says a word, their hands find each other under the warming cover and Steve rolls on his side to see the other man's face. 

Christian's reaches out and caresses his cheek, his touch so careful and loving that Steve has to swallow around the lump in his throat. 

“You know,” he says silently and leans into the touch, “Portland isn’t that bad... I mean...” he hesitates and Christian smiles at him. 

“Steve, you hate the weather up there. You'd go mad without the sun, especially now. It’s winter, it’s going to rain all the damn time...” 

“It rains here, too,” Steve states, but his protest is weak and Christian leans in to kiss him. 

“That's not the same and you know it.”

Steve grumbles a bit but deep down inside he knows that Christian is right. 

But he doesn't want to think about that now and shifts closer to the other man, settling in his arms, watching the sky above them. 

“You think they know?” he asks quietly. 

Christian chuckles roughly and shrugs. 

“Does it matter? They're our friends, I'm sure they ain't as clueless as we think,” he mutters, stifling a yawn.

Steve thinks about that and shakes his head, cuddling closer to Christian and nuzzles his neck. 

“You're right, like always.” 

Christian snickers lowly and kisses the top of his head. 

They fall silent again, the only sounds around them are the waves of the ocean and the occasionally whooshing in the trees behind the house. 

Clouds are chasing over the sky, blurry and gray, as the moon sinks unnoticeably lower and Steve's lids get heavy. 

“Shouldn’t we go to bed?” he mumbles, forcing his mouth to get out the words. 

“Nah, it's nice out here,” is Christian's gentle reply and Steve drifts off to sleep as soon as the other man falls silent again, held safely and surrounded by Christian's unique scent.

*

“Hey, I gotta go.” 

The words slowly sink into his half-sleeping mind and make him shiver. 

Blindly he searches for the lips he knows are there, wanting to feel them. He slings his arms around the strong neck, cool strands of hair brushing over his wrists. 

The kiss is deep and desperate because time is playing against them. 

Still, he gets lost in it; his hands tighten in soft hair and he wants to stay like this, being held tightly by strong arms, kissing like it’s their last kiss. 

But life isn't about what he wants and too quickly he has to let go, whining at the loss. 

“I gotta go.” 

He hates the tone in Christian's voice, hates the sorrow in it. 

His hands don’t want to let go but the silent “ _please_ ” makes him release his grip. 

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he mumbles as he opens his eyes, finding Christian watching him intensely. 

“I know. Me either. I'll see you soon, though.” 

Steve sits up; the sun isn't up yet but Christian is dressed and Steve knows his bag and guitar case are waiting at the door. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he grumbles and scrambles to his feet, slinging the blanket around his hips. 

Christian grins sheepishly and pulls him against his chest. The rough fabric of his shirt makes Steve hiss as it touches his sleep-warmed skin. 

“You know why.” Christian growls, his eyes darken and his hands wander hungrily over Steve's naked back and over his covered ass. He squeezes hard and Steve moans. 

“See,” Christian says, voice breaking as he pulls Steve closer, “not a good idea...”

Steve wants to protest but Christian shakes his head. 

“Don't argue with me, man. C'mere, kiss me again and then let me go,” he groans against his lips before he sinks into another long kiss. They both know it’s going to be the last one for a while and both can feel the desperate desire in it. 

Steve feels Christian's pulse running fast under his palms as he slides his hand over his cheek and his neck and with a last nip on his bottom lip he takes a step back, out of Christian's arms. 

“Call me,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady; it’s already hard enough for them both. 

“You know, I will.” 

“Take care.” 

“Always.” 

Christian swallows hard then he turns and walks inside, not looking back. 

Steve waits until he hears the door close with a silent click before he follows. He shuffles to the front window and peaks through the curtain. 

He leans against the window frame and a sad smile lingers over his lips as he sees Christian get into his car. He holds his breath and lets it go in a long sigh as the car starts and rolls slowly down the driveway. A last blink of the taillights and then it vanishes around the corner, taking his man away from him for the next few months. 

Steve lets go of the curtain and sighs. 

“I love you.” 

His own voice sounds weird in the now empty room but he doesn't care. 

_Just another goodbye_ , he thinks, snorting at the irony of that. 

He wanders back into the kitchen, feeling restless and lost. 

His phone buzzes and he smiles softly. He knows what the text will say; it’s always the same but it still makes his heart jump and his throat close up. 

He takes the phone out and opens the text. 

_I love you, too_. 

Always the same. Even after all these years. 

The smile on his face gets wider, like the sun slowly rising and filling the room with gentle warmth. 

 


End file.
